


it's all fun and games

by acrobats



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Duke thinks they're weird but he likes them anyway, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Game of Murder, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, the batfam has a morbid sense of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrobats/pseuds/acrobats
Summary: Duke participates in an annual Batfamily tradition for the first time.





	it's all fun and games

One thing Duke had discovered in his time of living at the manor: the Wayne family got into twice as many crazy shenanigans out of their capes as they did in them.

Case in point: Jason Todd, after weeks of radio silence, barging into the kitchen with a face-splitting grin and declaring, “It's murder time, kids!” That in itself didn't necessarily go against what Duke knew of Jason, but Duke had other elements to consider. Namely, the others' reactions.

Tim, who moments ago looked like he would be losing consciousness and face-planting into his waffles any time now, immediately perked up and started bouncing his leg in anticipation. Bruce's lips twitched in something resembling a smile as he took a sip of his coffee. Even Alfred looked pleased. Damian smirked openly, adopting a scheming face that made it more obvious than ever that he was Bruce's son.

“My, is it that time of the year already?” Alfred asked mildly, leaving no doubt to anyone that he had known exactly what time of the year it was. Duke still didn't – he wracked his brain trying to place the significance of today's date, and why it could potentially justify murder. “Please sit, Master Jason. There will be no killing on an empty stomach.”

“Thanks, Alf,” Jason said easily as he took a seat, accepting a plate of waffles with a smile even though their awful taste was an open secret. “When 're Dickface and Cass getting here?”

Duke blinked. He hadn't been aware that either of them would be in town any time soon – was there an emergency he hadn't heard about, somehow? But if there was, Bruce wouldn't be relaxed and eating breakfast like a normal human being.

“Richard will be driving to Gotham after work today,” Damian announced. “He wanted to be by earlier in the day, but as I understand it, getting a week-long leave of absence proved challenging enough.”

“Cassie's flight lands in two hours,” Bruce added.

Should Duke ask? No, he'd waited too long. The acceptable time frame had passed, never to return, and now it would be just too awkward. He could just go along with this. Pretend everyone wasn't acting even wackier than usual. A logical explanation would present itself eventually.

Jason turned to him suddenly with a conspiratory glint in his eye. “Hey, you've never played murder before, right kid?”

Duke's brows furrowed. He felt strangely defensive. “Should I have?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “It's tradition,” he said. “A week-long training exercise –”

“Game,” Tim and Jason cut in at once.

“–and recreational activity,” Bruce continued smoothly with a nod of acknowledgement. “It can be...chaotic, but I've found that the pros outweigh the cons.”

“And it involves murder,” Duke said skeptically.

“No,” Bruce denied, even as Jason, Tim and Damian crowed, “Yes!”

“Thanks,” Duke drawled. “That, like, clears it all up.”

“I assure you that no one is genuinely harmed in the duration of this game except perhaps the furniture, Master Thomas,” Alfred clarified. “The murder in question is of the symbolic kind.”

“Okay then,” Duke said, still feeling a little lost.

* * *

The next few hours were spent in anticipation of Cass and Dick's arrival. The references to murder were incessant, but no one would deign to explain the actual premise of the game to Duke before everyone was there. Even Bruce seemed to get some amusement out of drawing out the mystery.

Everyone wanted to be there when Bruce picked up Cass from the airport, so they all pooled together in one of the limos and drove out to the airport. There was a minor disagreement over the aux chord, meaning they spent more time arguing over _what_ they should listen to than actually playing _any_ music. Duke felt like that was characteristic of the Wayne family as a whole. On the way back, there was no such disagreement; Cass calmly requested the swan lake sound track and it was settled.

Duke wondered what she thought of this game. He didn't know Cassandra all that well, but he was aware that she had a complicated relationship with killing, something that ran deeper than Bruce's pure hatred of the act or even Jason and Damian's histories with using lethal-force. He didn't know details.

But Cass looked cheerful and content as she gazed steadily out of the window on the drive back. She caught Duke staring at her and smiled.

“I missed home,” she said by way of explanation. She watched him with narrowed eyes and tilted her head. “What...confuses you?”

Duke shook his head with a smile. “It's nothing, just this game everyone's talking about. They won't really explain to me what it's really about until we get started.”

“It's fun,” Cass declared. Then, with a hint of pride, “I'm good. I win.”

“She does win,” Tim confirmed, dropping his argument with Damian (if Duke had been hearing right, it was about the eating habits of blue whales, which, _sure_? why not!) to nod eagerly. “All the time. It's scary.”

“Until now,” Damian cut in. “Cassandra is skilled, but this year, I will win.”

“He said, last year, and the year before th–”

“If I draw your name, Timothy, I will show no mercy.”

Cass shared an amused look with Duke, mouthing  _I win._

Tim and Damian fell into a new argument with practiced ease. Meanwhile, Jason recounted the events of an Outlaws mission to Bruce, his glee directly proportional to Bruce's growing discomfort as more and more explosions became a part of the story. Duke suspected he may have been exaggerating, just a little bit, just as he suspected there was no real heat behind Tim and Damian's quips.

* * *

By the time Dick arrived, the anticipation was palpable, the entire house thrumming with it. _Let's Kill Tonight_ had been blasted more times than Duke could count, and the only real surprise was that it was the doing of Tim, who apparently had many, many feelings on how criminally underrated all of Vices and Virtues was.

(He wasn't  _wrong_ , but...)

That impatience was a contagious feeling, and Duke caught himself jumping and whirling his head towards the front door at the slightest of sounds. Finally, the unmistakable sound of Dick's bike was heard loud and clear in the drive way; the kids raced to greet him, with Damian in the lead. Duke found himself sprinting with them without stopping to think about it.

Dick grinned at his reception. He had a grocery bag in hand, something metallic jingling inside. He let it fall to the ground with a loud clank as Damian launched himself at him, looking for all intents and purposes more like he was trying to tackle Dick than to hug him. Dick seemed unbothered. 

Dick laughed as he ruffled Damian's hair, immediately causing the kid to scowl and pull away. “Miss me?”

“Never,” Damian denied, a grin in his voice. “You're late, Richard.”

“Aw, sorry guys. I'm here now though and ready to kick your ass,” Dick pointed out and playfully flicked Damian's nose. “Where 're Alfred and Bruce?”

“Hiding breakable objects, pretty sure,” Jason said. “It's like they don't trust us or something.”

Duke couldn't possibly imagine why.

“Alright then!” Dick exclaimed, buzzing with nervous energy, and picked up the mysterious bag. “Let's get this show on the road.”

* * *

They gathered in a drawing room, spread across the two couches in varying degrees of normalcy, Dick balancing on top of the back pillows, Damian having ditched them entirely to perch on the windowsill. The scene eerily resembled a classroom – everyone was yelling “quiet!” but unwilling to take their own advice.

It was kinda hilarious.

Bruce came in, took a look at his assortment of children and sighed, not even making an effort to restore any sort of order. Then _Alfred_ walked in, and the room fell silent.

Okay, it was _really_ fucking hilarious.

“If we're all ready for the draw,” Bruce said, sounding very much like he was having second thoughts.

Dick thrust the mystery bag at Duke with a grin. “You're the newest, so you go first.”

Duke reached into the bag and frowned when his fingers closed around a knife. The blade was dulled, but other than that, it felt very much like a real knife. He pulled it out and turned it over, _Alfred_ engraved on the back side in neat cursive.

“Don't tell us who you drew,” Bruce warned. “The goal is to 'kill' the person on your knife. If you do, you get their knife, and go after that person. The game ends in a week or when there is only one survivor.”

“You can't kill someone in the kitchen or their room,” Tim added. “Used to be you couldn't kill someone if they were naked, but _some people_ _–_ ” that was said with a glare leveled at Dick, who shrugged unapologetically, “took to roaming around the house in nothing but a towel. So now you just can't kill someone in the shower.”

“What if they've just gotten _out_ of the shower?” Duke pointed out. “Wait, no. I don't want to kill someone who just came out of the shower. Please don't kill me when I've just come out of the shower, either.”

“We mostly just use the en suite bathrooms during murder week to avoid that kind of issue,” Dick explained. “Alright, I'm next because I'm oldest.”

“Father and Pennyworth are significantly older than you, Richard,” Damian said.

Dick stuck his tongue out at him and reached for a knife, eyes lighting up as he saw the name. “Ha!”

“Me next,” Jason declared, reaching for the bag before anyone could stop him. He cackled in delight. “Nice.”

Everyone else looked equally pleased with their choices, with the exception of Bruce, whose blank expression made it impossible to tell.

“Everyone knows their assignments,” Bruce declared with gravity. “Murder begins at midnight.”

Duke glanced down at his knife, realization dawning on him. He was going to have to kill _Alfred._ Shit.

* * *

The first night went without incident. Everyone had trouble sleeping, paranoia at an all time high. Tim actually dragged his blanket and pillows to the kitchen and camped there. Everyone else turned in early, barricading themselves in their rooms.

Duke wondered for how long he could survive by simply refusing to leave. He could even lure Alfred to him if he went long enough without going down for food. He felt kind of evil for considering it, but it could work. The rules didn't say you couldn't kill someone else in your own room.

In the end, it was the screaming that got him to abandon safety in favor of investigating. He found Tim slumped against the wall in the hallway leading to the kitchen, clutching his chest. Duke caught a glimpse of Cass before she turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Duke hesitated. It could be a trick. But Tim appeared to be weaponless, so Duke dared take a step closer, his own knife hidden in the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you okay?”

Tim's head jerked up and he shook his head, wide eyed. “She got me.”

“Cass?” Duke asked.

“I never really stood a chance with her as my killer,” Tim said mournfully. “She ambushed me on the way to the bathroom. I just...I'd just hoped to take the demon out first.”

Did that mean Tim had drawn Damian? If so, that was who Cass would be going after next. Which was good, because then she wouldn't be going after Duke.

Jason appeared at the other end of the hallway, poking his head around the corner. “Oh shit, do we have a casualty?”

“Cass,” Tim said by way of explanation, dragging himself to his feet with great effort. Did he realize he wasn't actually injured? “Jason. You have to avenge me.”

Jason flipped him off with both hands. “This is a revenge-free household or whatever the fuck, Timbers. Sorry I don't make the rules!”

“Ugh,” Tim said. “Duke! Will you avenge me?”

“Go after _Cass_? No thanks,” Duke snorted. “I'm gonna stay alive as long as I can, thank you very much.”

“Might not be that long,” Jason said cheerfully and lunged at him.

Oh fuck. Duke turned on his heel and sprinted to the kitchen, letting out an undignified yelp. Jason halted at the doorway like there was an invisible barrier. Duke ducked farther into the kitchen, leaning against the table to catch his breath.

“Come back out, Narrows!” Jason barked. “I just want to talk!”

“You know you can come in, right Jay?” Duke laughed. “You just can't kill me.”

“It's the one time of the year I'm _allowed_ to kill people,” Jason grumbled. “Stop being so difficult.”

“Nope,” Duke said, hopping on the kitchen counter. “No, I think I'm good here, thanks.”

 A triumphant yell came from the distance.

“Sounds like Dick,” Jason said with a frown. He glanced away and then back at Duke. “I'm watching you, Narrows. You better sleep with one eye open.”

* * *

Dick stuck around the kitchen for a while, stocking up on supplies to take back to his room when the time came. Alfred actually came in at some point, going about his usual routine, nothing indicating that something was out of the ordinary. Duke was half-convinced that Alfred knew and was trying to psych him out.

Duke tried to follow him out, but had to duck around a hallway to avoid Damian and Jason, who appeared to have formed a temporary alliance. The thought was terrifying. By the time they were gone, Alfred was nowhere to be seen. Duke gave a defeated sigh and took of in the direction of the movie theater.

Keeping away from the others was a fine survival tactic, but it meant he had no idea what the status was. Maybe while he wasted time trying to avoid Jason, somebody else killed him and got the knife with Duke's name on it. Duke needed to do some recon.

He only found Bruce and Dick inside, watching something animated. It felt safe enough to come into the room, as neither of them looked particularly homicidal nor were assigned to him, to the best of Duke's knowledge.

“Hey Duke,” Dick beamed when he saw him, patting the spot next to him on the couch. Duke watched the empty spot with moderate suspicion before taking a chance and sitting. “I killed Bruce,” Dick announced happily.

Bruce grunted, turning away to hide a small smile.

“Oh, who'd he have?” Duke asked casually, trying not to sound like he was fishing for information.

Dick's eyes gleamed mischievously. “Now where would be the fun in telling you that?”

Duke groaned and fell back against the couch. This game was driving him mad already.

* * *

The second day passed with no further kills. The house was a war zone, everyone wary of everyone else. The alliance between Damian and Jason was holding, and it _looked_ like Dick was in cahoots with Cass, but nobody really knew, since they barely ever saw her. Even then, Duke suspected it was only when she wanted them to.

Everyone was losing it, besides Tim and Bruce, who seemed more than content to be out of the game, and were working on an algorithm to predict who would be eliminated next. It was kind of hilarious that the greatest strategists in the family had been the first to go.

On the third day, everything changed.

Duke had been in the kitchen with Dick, Jason and Damian, and he really needed to pee. When a glance at Jason confirmed he was too engrossed in the video he was showing Damian to immediately go after him, Duke decided to chance a trip to the bathroom.

It was on the way back, sticking close to the walls and staying out of sight, that Duke saw something that made him freeze in his tracks. Alfred standing in Dick's room, the door open a crack, folding sheets and humming quietly under his breath.

Duke stopped breathing. He had to keep quiet at all costs. This was an opportunity he'd never get again. But how to go about it? He could try sneaking up on the man, but he'd lost many assumptions about Alfred over time – namely, that because he was old and didn't go out in the field, he couldn't fight. Duke knew that a startled Alfred could quite easily throw him on his ass.

Instead he approached with loud footsteps and a, “Hey, Alfred. Need a hand with that?”

“Master Duke,” Alfred greeted, straightening up. “It would be quite appreciated, if only you could put that knife away.”

Duke sheepishly shoved the knife he'd been concealing back in the pocket of his hoodie. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

The exclamation was followed by a loud crash. Both of them startled, heads snapping towards the sound. _What am I doing_ _?_ Duke thought frantically as he and Alfred hurried to find where it'd come from. _It's now or never!_

Feeling like the worst person alive, he quite literally backstabbed Alfred. It was only a little poke between the shoulderblades, and Duke smiled apologetically when Alfred turned to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. Duke was starting to wish he could turn back time and undo it, when Alfred unexpectedly smiled and handed him a knife.

_Cass._

“Oh, fuck no,” Duke said.

“I will pretend I did not hear that,” Alfred chided. “Now, let's find out what's happened, shall we?”

They found Dick and Jason in the drawing room where it had all begun. Dick stood near the entrance with a knife in hand. Jason was backed into a corner. Dick stepped over a small coffee table that had been toppled, approaching Jason with a devious grin, nothing like his usual warm and sunny smiles.

Jason cursed again. “I can't fucking believe the old man had _me_! Would've sworn he'd gotten Damian, fuck. Shit, Dick, let's talk about this!”

“I'm sorry, brother,” Dick said gravely, and attacked.

Jason ducked out of reach and for a moment it looked like he might get away, but Dick tackled him to the ground and pressed the knife against his throat.

“Fucking hell,” Jason complained as he went limp. Dick laughed and let go of him, standing back up. “Murdered without even getting a kill in. That's just embarrassing.”

“If it helps, Master Jason, so was I,” Alfred said from the doorway.

Jason glanced between Alfred and Duke with wide eyes as he rose to his feet. He whistled in appreciation. “I can't believe you killed Alfie, you cold-hearted bastard.”

“Thanks,” Duke said with a shrug, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Good job, Duke,” Dick said, something menacing in his voice.

Duke blinked at him, and then he realized. Dick had killed Jason. Dick now had Jason's target.

“Technically, you haven't gotten his knife yet,” Duke cautioned, hurrying to put as much distance between him and Dick as possible.

Dick frowned and turned to Jason, who tossed him the knife with Duke's name on it, but Duke had already taken off in a sprint. He ran and ran, not stopping until long after he'd stopped hearing the footsteps trailing him. He bumped right into Cass.

Should he...?

Cass smiled at him and held out her arms in a clear invitation.

He made a swing, but she danced away. He tried again and again but she was too fast, a blurry shadow at the edge of his vision. And suddenly, they weren't alone. A knife nudged Duke just below his neck. He stilled and turned with a groan, greeted by Dick's smug grin.

“You're having way too much fun with this,” Duke complained, handing Dick his knife with a small glare.

“You fought valiantly,” Dick told him with a straight face, nodding solemnly before he leapt at Cass.

She laughed and dodged his attack with ease, kicking Dick hard enough to send him stumbling back, and then disappeared down the hall.

“Well, good luck with that,” Duke told him, not too sympathetic. Dick _had_ just killed him.

* * *

If Duke had thought his elimination would mean no further involvement in the game, he would have been dead wrong. Twice in the following days he was used as a human shield, in both occasions by Damian, who was chasing Dick and being chased by Cass. The three were at a stand still.

“We should place our bets,” Tim announced on the fifth day over breakfast.

It was only the eliminated members in the kitchen. Duke wasn't sure if Dick, Cass and Damian ate or slept at all at this point, or if they spent all their time hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike.

“I say Cass kills Damian and then Dick,” Jason declared. “No way the brat can take on Dickface and win.”

“Maybe not in a real fight,” Tim agreed with an inclination of his head. “But this is more complex than that. I think he'll kill Dick. The question is whether or not he'll last the week against Cass.”

“Unlikely,” Bruce muttered over his coffee.

“Yeah, Bruce, we know she's your favorite,” Jason quipped. “I'm gonna tell Damian you said that, Mr Second Eliminated.”

“It's...good for him to lose, sometimes,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “He's used to high stake scenarios. Life or death. It's good for him to know that it's _okay_ to lose.”

“He's still gonna throw a fit when Cass kills him,” Tim said with a shrug.

“Dick might last the week,” Duke pointed out. “Cass can't kill him unless she kills Damian first. Assuming Damian stays alive long enough, Dick could hold his own the rest of the time.”

“I keep telling you guys Damian's gonna kill him,” Tim insisted.

“Alright, let's get some paper and write this shit down,” Jason suggested. “I want y'all to owe me.”

* * *

On the sixth day, Damian killed Dick.

The whole family gathered to watch as Damian held his knife with the edge pressing against Dick's chest. Dick watched his youngest brother with wide eyes, a look of pure shock on his face.

“Dames?” he whispered. Damian, who was grinning smugly, faltered. He was starting to retrieve the knife when Dick burst out, “Oh my god, I'm so proud of you!” and manhandled him into a hug, ruffling the kid's hair despite Damian's loud protests.

“You're a leech,” Damian complained, barely concealed affection in his voice.

“And you just killed me,” Dick returned, sounding happier about it than he had any right to be.

“Yes, and I still have one target left, Richard. You can be ridiculous _later_.”

“Is that a promise?” Dick called after Damian as he disappeared in search of Cass.

“I told you guys he could do it,” Tim told the rest of them triumphantly. He and Bruce had bet that Damian would kill Dick and Cass would kill Damian.

Dick turned on him with an offended look. “Wait, you bet I'd die? How could you, Tim?”

“Well all bet you'd die, Dickhead,” Jason said. “We just couldn't agree on whether it would be Dami or Cass who did you in. Gotta hand it to the kid.”

“That's not true. Duke bet that Dick and Cassie would both be alive by the end of the week,” Bruce reminded them.

Duke shrugged. Obviously, that hadn't worked out.

Dick lit up like a christmas tree. “You're the only one I trust, Duke,” he declared, throwing an arm around Duke's shoulders.

“Oh, that's rich coming from my killer,” Duke teased, shoving at Dick playfully.

* * *

Everyone concurred that it wouldn't be long now until the game came to an end, but the day passed without further incident. A deceptive calm had settled over them, and Duke didn't trust it for a second. Only Damian was constantly on guard, searching the house corner to corner for Cass, but it was like she'd disappeared off the face of the earth.

Damian spent that night standing vigil in the kitchen; Duke knew because he came down for a (post)midnight snack and found the kid doing squats.

“I must keep myself awake and alert,” Damian said defensively.

Duke shook his head and poured himself a bowl of fruit loops. Damian had shoved the kitchen table to the side to have more room for his exercises, so Duke sat on the counter. “Sure? Or you could get a couple hours of sleep. It's not like she can kill you in here.”

“Yes, but she might show up while she believes I'm asleep,” Damian answered. “We're vigilantes, Thomas – so stay vigilant!”

Duke laughed. “If you say so, Mad Eye.”

Damian gave him a glare and went back to his exercises. Duke ate his fruit loops. He rinsed his bowl and dried it with a towel. He stood up with the intention of going back to bed, but he took another look at Damian and hesitated.

“Wanna spar?” Duke asked. “C'mon. It'll keep you on your toes, at least.”

Damian hummed in consideration. “Very well. But you must at least _try_ to pose a challenge.”

“I'll do my level best,” Duke said dryly.

They fought for half an hour or so. Duke earned several bright new bruises for his troubles, and he was swearing horribly in the pajamas he'd only been wearing for a couple of days, but it wasn't all bad. When they were done, Damian slumped against the table to 'catch his breath' and fell asleep not a minute later. Duke took of in search of a blanket and returned, covering the sleeping kid while taking great care not to wake him up.

* * *

Anticipation was at an all time high when the seventh day dawned.

The conversation among the eliminated had shifted from what the results would be to what the prize should be this year -- the best idea that had been thrown around so far was a week of driving the batmobile. Everyone had weirdly strong opinions on the matter considering that they wouldn't be getting it, anyway.

Bruce opposed it, on the grounds that Damian might still win ("Hypocrite," Jason accused, "you said there was no way!"), presumably because driving a car was far more dangerous than the stuff Robin did on a nightly basis. Even though Damian had apparently learned to drive when he was five. It was the principle of the thing, Bruce grumbled. 

After breakfast, Duke decided to sit in the library for a bit, where it was usually quiet. It was strangely not very often that anyone went there, besides Bruce and Jason when he was staying over. So it was a little unusual to find Cass, who he'd definitely never seen in the library before, sat on the top step of a mobile set of stairs, book in hand.

She peered down at him and smiled. "Practising," she explained.

"Cool," Duke said. "You don't mind if I join you?"

She shook her head. 

"How come you're not out there trying to take out Damian?" he asked as he sat on a nearby two-seat couch.

"I have time." She sounded amused. "When I do, game over."

She was dragging it out on purpose, Duke realized. And he understood, sort of. It surprised him how much fun he'd had the past week, whether it was trying not to get 'killed' or speculating who would be the next to go.

"This game is weird," Duke said, more to himself than anything. 

"Name is wrong," Cass offered. "Is not...murder." Her eyes hardened for a moment. "Is family. Fun."

It was definitely strange they were all so hyped to play a game called 'murder' given their experiences, but no one had seemed uncomfortable throughout the week. The dramatics and the elaborate plans, the alliances and betrayals all felt like a way to poke fun at the shit they had to deal with on the daily. 

"It kinda is, yeah," Duke admitted.

"Dining hall," Cass told him, holding a finger to her lips. "One hour."

Then she jumped off the staircase and took off in a jog.

Duke couldn't be entirely sure what that was about, but he took her advice, keeping an eye on the time as he read. An hour late he headed into the dining room, just in time to see Cass sprinting with Damian on her heels. Bruce and Tim were close behind them.

Cass ran right to the middle of the room where she spun around to face Damian, falling into a fast-paced rythm as they fought. Duke stood at the entrance with Bruce and Tim and watched them. Somebody must have alerted the others to what was happening, because not five minutes later everyone was there, eyes fixed on the fight taking place in front of them.

It was like watching a wild, elaborate dance, Damian focused and determined, Cass downright giddy. The sort of control they had over their movements was something Duke was both in awe and slightly envious of, but he knew it'd taken them both a lifetime to learn. It was beautiful. 

When Cass finally tagged Damian, it was a lightning-quick poke of her knife right where his heart was. It happened so fast that it took Damian straightening up and abandoning his fighting stance for Duke to realize she'd actually gotten him.

"You fought well," Cass told Damian with a beam. 

He nodded haughtily. "And you, too."

And that was it. No tantrum like Tim had expected. Sure, he looked disappointed as hell, but it only lasted until Dick ran up to him, loudly exclaiming what an awesome fight it had been. Then Damian was too busy being hugged to death to stew over his loss, at least for the moment.

"Hey, isn't it weird that Dick had the highest kill count?" Jason mused. 

"Master Dick is not to be underestimated," Alfred commented lightly. 

"It's the puppy eyes," Tim said with a shudder. "Lures you into a false sense of security."

The started talking about the prize again, but Duke was only half-paying attention, because Bruce turned to him and said, "You did well."

Duke rolled his eyes. "Training exercise, right?"

"And you had fun," Bruce acknowledged, glancing back at the ohers. "They...we all did. For which I am grateful."

It had been fun. Duke didn't exactly mind that things would be going back to normal, or as normal as they ever got in this ridiculous household, but he might just be looking forward to the next murder week. 

Still a weird name.

"Yeah, same," Duke agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> I've thought about this concept a LOT and figrued it was something that they would either love or hate. Obviously went with love here, because it was fucking hilarious to write.  
> Babs and Steph are totally watching over the city so this week off is possible.  
> Also, hopefully this is obvious but -- who 'killed' who in this does not reflect how I think an actual fight between them all would go down.  
> I did read this over, but it's late so I've probably missed something. If anything looks weird, let me know!  
> Comments make my day :)  
> My [tumblr](https://acrobatgrayson.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
